


When the rain starts to pour (I'll be there for you)

by yellowteapots



Category: Friends, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, F/M, Friends AU, Friends to Lovers, Stiles centric, Stydia, Stydia Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowteapots/pseuds/yellowteapots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Friends AU were Stiles is Chandler and Lydia is Monica. Nothing is supernatural but there are still things getting in the way of Stiles' happy ever after (if there is such a thing). </p><p>“He's right, Stilinski. Jackson may have had a cool moustache, a fancy car, cheekbones that could cut glass...”<br/>Stiles hits him, then. “I thought you were meant to be making me feel better?”<br/>“What I was trying to say is: even though he has all of those things he isn't you, Stiles, and it's you that Lydia cares about not him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the rain starts to pour (I'll be there for you)

**Author's Note:**

> A Friends AU where Stydia are Mondler, Scallison are Rosschel and Isaac and Derek are both a blend of Joey and Pheobe.  
> This is my third Stydia fic but my first on AO3 and my first AU and it's all in aid of Stydia week :)
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy the story, comments and kudos much appreciated!

 

Stiles isn't entirely satisfied with the way his life has panned out. He's been stuck in a rut for a while now and he's resigned himself to the fact that he's never leaving Beacon Hills. He'd always assumed that taking over from his dad and becoming Sheriff was what he wanted but, it was Beacon Hills, nothing ever happened – not even the odd homicide – and Stiles found himself stuck in his office, refusing to find another job lest he break his ageing fathers heart. But when push comes to shove, Stiles know that he'd never quit because he needed the money and he didn't have a clue what he'd do if he wasn't sat out in the squad car on a Saturday night taking the speed of the cars leaving the free way.

  
He's not really that bothered that he hasn't had a serious relationship for...never, he's never has a serious relationship and that's kind of sad really because he's got a lot of love to give but no one to give it to. There's only been one girl that's ever caught his attention, but that was never going to happen because she was way out of his league and always would be.

  
It isn't all bad though, Stiles reasons, he lives with his best friend Scott. They've been friends since, well, forever and even now, as they were both racing down the track towards the big 3-0, they were as close as ever. He knows he can be hard to deal with at times, being the sarcastic and cynical man he was, and he could forgive Scott for making their apartment smell of dog because, when all was said and done, Stiles knows that he'd lose his mind if he didn't have his best friend. The pair would stay up all night watching re-runs of their favourite shows and playing table football until the sun came up and they both realised that they had jobs to go to and had to work the next day on less than an hour of sleep.

  
In fact, when he really thinks about it, his friendships were probably the best thing that Stiles had going for him, if he was being honest. Scott's on-again-off-again girlfriend Allison lived across the hall with her best friend Lydia, who Stiles may or may not have had a crush on since they were all in the third grade, which was incredibly handy when they all wanted to hang out – although they usually ended up at the girls apartment since it was the bigger of the two. Their other friend from school, Isaac, lived in the building across the street from them with Derek, Lydia's old room mate. In short, the six of them were like a little family and Stiles was grateful for that.

  
So what if Scott and Allison were the epitome of 'will they or won't they' or if Lydia had a stupid thing for men with moustaches who were really no good for her at all or if Derek was permanently sulking about Isaac eating everything in their fridge, they were still some of the best people you could ever come across.  
Stiles is pondering all of this, and the meaning of his life, while Scott is talking about how he'd discovered this experimental new treatment for cats (for what could be the tenth time that day). They're sprawled across the threadbare sofa in Central Perk, as is typical for the six, and only Allison is really paying attention to what Scott is saying – they must be teetering towards 'on again' – while Stiles takes a last sip of his coffee, noting that he probably should have been making his way back to the station about ten minutes ago. Normally he would try and think of some sort of joke to lighten the mood but he's all out of cat puns that can be used in a family friendly place – what a catastrophe (oh come on, let him have this one).

  
It's just the four of them today, Isaac is off somewhere filming some pilot for a new television pilot about teen aged werewolves, or something, that none of them had the heart to tell him would flop. After all, who'd want to watch a bunch of kids running around with glowing eyes that looked like they'd been on steroids for the best part of the season? Derek's probably, well Stiles doesn't really know what Derek does during the day– none of them do, he's more of the quiet brooding type and the group don't tend to pry, all they know is that whatever it is he does involves a guitar and massage oil.

  
Stiles leans over and whispers “You've got to be kitten me right meow.” to Lydia, he gets an eye roll and a smirk, rather than the bark of laughter he'd been hoping for. Normally he'd be miffed that his joke hadn't been well received but this was Lydia and she could do no wrong in his eyes – except date the wrong guys.

  
So when she looks up from her iced tea and quirks an eyebrow, “That joke was purr-ly catastrophic.” he can't help the ripple of laughter that escapes his lips and finds he cares a little less about his shitty life because at least it's a life where Lydia Martin engages in cat puns with him over a coffee.

  
Allison sends the pair a disparaging look, trying to look stern, before turning back to Scott, listening intently as he picks up the story from where he left of with the smile he reserved solely for Allison. God help the poor girl, Stiles knows from experience that Scott can talk for hours once you get him going and between the two loves of his life, Allison and his job, there really was no stopping him.

  
“Hey, looks like it may be the purr-fect time to head off.” Stiles declares as soon as Lydia drains the remains of her tea. The strawberry blonde laughs, her hand flying up to cover her mouth in embarrassment. Her laugh was one of his favourite things about her, probably. Definitely. Stiles had always been the class clown at school and there was nothing he'd liked more as a gangly teen than cracking a joke that had his friends in stitches, but he always claimed it as a personal victory when he made Lydia laugh because it was really beautiful. The way she threw her head back, smile lighting up her face, dimples appearing was amazing, laughing like he'd said the funniest thing she'd ever heard no matter how off his game he was or if she'd heard it before.

After fetching Lydia's jacket, the pair said their goodbyes and left the shop, turning left to take them home. They chatted easily about this new theory Lydia had been working on and how she was sure that this would be the one that'd earn her the Field's Medal, and he believed her, of course, ever since she'd first confessed her passion for mathematics. Once they reached their apartments Lydia invites Stiles over for a coffee even though they’d just been at the coffee house, Stiles can't help but grin at that, so she could get him to take a look at the formula. He supposes he should go back to work, but he's the Sheriff so if anything was urgent then one of his Deputies, either Reyes or Boyd, would have called him, so he follows her into her home and takes a seat at the table.

Whilst she is explaining the formula, flicking through her perfectly organised notes and research papers– he could use a system like this at the station, not that he'd ever give her the satisfaction - he can't help but notice the way the light catches in her hair, highlighting all the different colours that compliment her green eyes so well. He watches as she pulls out a few sheets of paper and sets about scribbling down a page full of numbers, hand flying across the page with ease. She's so neat with the work and all of her organisation, he could never keep any of his papers so organised but he understands that she likes it like that. She likes having her research in alphabetical order by surname and keeping all the translations she'd done with a copy in the original language.

If this was one of the others he was listening to, Stiles would have tuned out a long time ago but because it was Lydia, and he couldn't deny her anything, he listened to every word she said whilst still admiring the way she said everything and the way she moved around the kitchen using the utensils to show him what she was talking about. It warms his heart to see her talking about something she cares so much about, to she the light in her eyes as she practically dances around the room. He realises that he must be looking at Lydia the way that Allison was doting on Scott earlier but he can't find it in himself to care all that much.

Because, if he's being truthful, Stiles still has a thing for her. He thought, at one point, that he was more than happy being friends with her but somewhere along the line, when he became exposed to the real Lydia for the first time, he really began to fall for her, despite knowing that she'd never feel the same way about him. Ever since he'd first seen her when they were eight, her wild curls flying as she hurtled around the playground and running straight into him, knocking him flying, he'd convinced himself that he was too good for him and he was okay with that. Well, mostly okay with that. Lydia has always been able to have anyone she wanted, and she has had on many occasions, despite the fact that she's a little bit nuts and a whole lot of genius rolled into one.

If she wasn't as perfect as he thought she was then maybe they could have had a chance to be together, somehow someday. But she'd already had Jackson, he was her epic love – the Scott to her Allison – and there didn't seem to be any room in her life for a Stiles. She'd been with Jackson and his stupid moustache for a few years, the guy leaving her because he wasn't ready for the commitment that she wanted. Stiles was ready for that sort of commitment – perhaps for the first time in his life – but he knew, in his heart of hearts, that he didn't stand a chance.

Until recently, that is, when Stiles had started to think that maybe Lydia could feel the same way about him. He didn't want them to turn out like Scott and Allison, skirting around their feeling, and he just wanted to know if she could return his feelings, however unlikely it seemed. The thing is, Stiles would like to believe Derek when he says that Lydia is gone for him too, he'd like to not have to question everything they do together and he'd love to be able to just tell her how he feels without the crippling fear that she would flat out reject him. He'd love to believe that she saw him more than platonically, that their research nights where she'd sit with him on a stake out meant more than two friends sitting in a beat up blue Jeep eating curly fries on a Friday night instead of going partying with their friends.

It was about the right time for some sort of grand gesture, something to show Lydia how he felt that would determine, once and for all, if she felt the same and if they could maybe have a happy ever after – if there is such a thing, Stiles isn't so sure. But maybe he was wrong, after all he would be blind not to see the way that Scott looks at Allison, like she's his whole world, but could that happen for Stiles? Whatever he thought, however much the others nearly convinced him that he and Lydia could be a thing, his mind kept taking him back to Jackson. Whatever it was that he did to charm Lydia was something Stiles thought he could never do. It must have been that stupid moustache or his stupid muscles or his stupid cheekbones.

Despite all that, all the things Stiles didn't have, he was more than willing to give things a try, to treat Lydia like she deserved to be treated and not left, miserable, because he couldn't commit. Normally, if he was trying to win over some girl he'd talk to Scott but he was out, most likely with Allison, so he'd resolved to suck up his pride and go see Isaac and Derek. Maybe they could help him work out the best way to win her over.

“Stiles? Are you still listening?” Lydia asks, bringing him back from his thoughts. She's sat across the table from him, one hand propping up her chin and the other fiddling with a strand of hair, twisting it around her finger.

He nods, flailing, to convince her that he had been one hundred per cent attentive. “Uh, of course I was.”

“Is that so?” she queries, shooting a knowing smile in his direction. “Because I have a feeling, just a little one, that you weren't listening to a single word that passed my lips.”

“Well, there's only so much maths a man can take at,” he glances at his watch, “three in the afternoon.”

She rolls her eyes and he think that this isn't the best way to win her affections. He's not good at the whole 'wooing' business, never has been, but this is appalling even by his standards.

“I listened to the first part, honestly, I just got a little distracted somewhere near the end when you started speaking in numbers that I can't even comprehend.”

“I must say, Stilinksi, that I'm a bit offended that you seem to find me so boring.” she teased, watching with amusement as he tried to reassure he that that wasn't in fact the case.

Once his cheeks has turned sufficiently red with flustered embarrassment, she sighed and asked him if he wanted to stay and help her cook dinner. He really should head back to the station but he looks at the hopeful glint in her eyes and finds that he can't say no to her, never has been.

“Sure, Lyds, just let me make a quick call.” She smiles and goes to wash her hands, giving him space to dial the number for the station and explain to Deputy Reyes why he wouldn't be back for the afternoon. Erica laughed and asked if it had anything to do with a certain red-head and if he told her, albeit jokingly, to have more respect for the Sheriff then he could pretend that his crush on his best friend wasn't as obvious as a red skyscraper in the middle of a cornfield.

Stiles doesn't really want to cook a meal which'll just end in Derek or Isaac eating the most part before the others got a look in, or end in Stiles pouring some sort of herb or spice into one of the many paper cuts he'd managed to give himself over the past week. But for Lydia he was do anything, just to prove it to her; to prove that he cared.

*

After they've all eaten, and most of the gang have headed to their respective homes, Stiles helps Lydia do the dishes before he returns home. When he says that he helps her, what he actually means is that he supervises while she washes because they both know he wouldn't be able to wash them to Lydia's high standard. Like he said, he would take any opportunity to spend a little more time with her, even if it does end in him getting drenched with the soapy water when he nearly drops one of her prized plates. Eventually he waves goodbye to her and crosses the small distance to the hall to get to his own apartment.  
He opens the door to see Isaac and Scott playing table football, with the TV playing aimlessly in the background. He decides that there's no time like the present to ask their advice about the whole possibility of a Stiles and Lydia thing, but he still can't help the apprehension that's building in his stomach when his two friends look up.

“'Sup?” Scott asks, twisting the handle on the game, sending a ball towards Isaac's goal.

Isaac just grunts by way of greeting.

“Oh not much, really.”

“Okay so there is something then?” Scott says. “It's written across your face, bro.”

Stiles takes a seat at the breakfast bar, after taking a beer out of the fridge. He pops the cap on his belt and takes a sip before responding. “I've recently come to a sort of realisation.” he pauses.

“Which is?” Isaac asks, grabbing a handful of crisps.

“So I kind of think I may like Lydia.” he takes another sip. “Like, a lot.”

“Well yeah, I thought you said this was a 'realisation'?” Scott quips.

Isaac snorts, “We've all known that for years, it's about time the two of you got your shit together. I'm just glad that you're finally admitting it to yourself.”

“Excuse me?” he nearly chokes on his beer.

“Oh come on, Stiles.” Scott laughs, putting a stop to their game. “I'm pretty sure everyone in Beacon Hills knows how you feel about her. It's quite sickening really.”

“Oh I'm sorry, have you seen the way you are will Allison.”

“Point taken, but seriously Stiles the two of you are so oblivious.”

“If it didn't make me want to gag, I'd think it was cute.” Isaac smirks. “God, she even laughs at your bad jokes, and not out of pity.”

“I resent that accusation, Lahey.” Stiles scowls. “Lydia clearly just has a better sense of humour than you two.”

Scott and Isaac exchanged a look. “So, anyway, what do you guys think I should do about it?”

“You need to tell her how you feel, women like that.”

“Well, duh, but how?”

“Send her flowers, tell her she's beautiful.”

“But I bet stupid Jackson and his stupid face did all that about a thousand times better than I ever could.”

“He was a douche, though, he broke her heart and she knows that you'd never do that. Honestly, you shouldn't let what happened with them stand in your way.” Scott smiles.

“He's right, Stilinski. Jackson may have had a cool moustache, a fancy car, cheekbones that could cut glass...”

Stiles hits him, then. “I thought you were meant to be making me feel better?”

“What I was trying to say is: even though he has all of those things he isn't you, Stiles, and it's you that Lydia cares about not him.”

Stiles is actually quite taken aback. Isaac was a man of few words, and even fewer that meant anything, so hearing it from him actually meant something. “Thanks man, I appreciate that.”

“Well appreciate me all you want but that's not going to get you in Lydia Martin's pants.”

“And that right there is why don't come to you for advice.” Stiles huffed, downing the last of his beer and then retreating to his bedroom.

Clearly the best way to solve this whole predicament was to lie face first on the bed and sulk, so that's exactly what Stiles decided to do. He heard the door to the apartment slam and then there was a knock at the door.

“Hey, Stiles, can I come in?”  
He didn't answer but Scott came in anyway.

“Sorry about Isaac, you know what he's like.” Scott shrugs. “I want to help you, you know, I want to help the both of you.”

“So what should I do? What would you do? I'm sure you've got some sort of master plan for how you're going to get back with Allison.”

Scott scratches the back of his neck, “It's not like there's going to be some sort of grand gesture or anything, like Derek said, she's my lobster or whatever.

Allison and I are going to be together, we're meant to be together and I just have faith in that, I guess.”

“Okay,” Stiles ponders. “But if we are going along the lines of grand gestures...?”

“I don't think Lydia needs a grand gesture from you. Now that you've finally come to your senses all you need to do is tell her. Sure, the timing hasn't been perfect for you guys in the past but you don't need fireworks or any of that crap to show her how much she means to you. She won't care how you do it or where you do it but she does need you to tell her how you feel.”

“It's almost as if you forget what I'm up against. Who I'm up against. Just thinking about all the guys Lydia's been with – it makes my head hurt – and I know I can't compete with any of them.”

Before Stiles can continue, Scott hits him across the head. “For once in your life stop being so down on yourself. You're a great catch – you're the Sheriff for God's sake – anyone would be lucky to have you, you just need to realise it.”

“Thanks man.”

“But seriously, it'll all work out.”

Whichever way he thinks about it, though, telling the girl he may or may not have been in love with for half his life that he loves her in his shitty apartment is not the way to woo someone like Lydia.

*

It's Thursday and, yet again, Stiles finds himself sitting in Central Perk. He's sat in the arm chair today, not on the sofa but he's still sipping his coffee as usual. He's balancing a puzzle book oh his knee, absently scribbling down an answer or two as they come to him. Most of the gang are there too. Lydia is sat along the sofa, flipping through some glossy fashion magazine, occasionally showing a page to Allison who would give a hum of approval. Allison's a bit bummed though, since Scott's been called back to the surgery – someone hit a deer or something – and is brooding over a black coffee. Derek is sat on the far side of the sofa, eating a muffin, and wearing a leather jacket even though it's summer and he must be boiling. But all this is inconsequential because he still hasn't been able to pluck up the courage to tell Lydia how he feels.

“Derek?” Stiles begins, wondering if the older man would have more of a clue about how to help him that Scott or Isaac. Stiles just wasn't convinced that telling her how he felt would be enough. “How did you, like, express um loving feelings towards someone?”

Everyone looks up from what they're doing, eyes on Stiles.

Allison quirks an eyebrow. “Wait what?”

“Yeah, what?” Lydia asks, face unreadable.

“I was uh just asking about how you tell someone that um you might love them.” Stiles could feel his cheeks colouring. He realised it was risky asking Derek with Lydia sitting right there but honestly, by this point, he just wanted to know what he should do.

“So, you're saying that you're in love with someone then?” She looks mildly hurt when she scowls, but quickly changes her expression when she notices that he's looking. “Um, good for you.”

Stiles' hands are flying about as he repositions himself on the edge of his seat. “Um no, no. It was purely hypothetical, you know, like how would you guys do it?”

Lydia is still looking a bit put out, so he reaches over and gives her arm a quick squeeze. He shoots her a goofy smile and she seems to cheer a bit.

Derek clears his throat, looking between the pair. “I don't know, I've never actually told anyone before. Well, not first any way.”

“What about Jennifer?”Allison asked, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“She told me first, it's easier then I think.” Derek smiles, and Stiles thinks that's probably all their going to get so he turns to Allison.

“So, how about you and Scott then? Surely along the line their must have been some sort of declaration of undying love? No vows or anything?”

Allison sighed. “I can't say that there has been. But that doesn't mean that we aren't meant to be together, we're soul mates – I'm sure of it. We've never needed any grand displays to tell the other how we feel we just sort of know, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Scott said that too, God, neither of you are any help.” Stiles moaned, waving his pen around as he spoke.

And then, as is Stiles told her she'd won the lottery, a smile spread across Allison's face. Everything about her seemed to brighten. “He said that, really?”

Stiles nods at her, happy to see that he might have been able to get his friends back together. They deserve to be happy together after all this on again off again stuff that's been happening since high school. He's seen the two of then when they've been in the 'off' stages and it's not great, they're both miserable when they aren't together – always arguing about whether they were on a break or not when Scott was with Kira (they were if you ask Stiles, but that might just be the bro-code talking). Maybe if the two of them get back together they'll be more helpful and have more insight on how Stiles can cease being just Stiles and could become a part of Stiles and Lydia.

With a look of joy on her face, Allison picks up her coat and heads out of the shop, leaving the other three watching her go. “Thanks Stiles! I've got to go tell Scott something.”

So much for no grand gestures being needed, Stiles thinks, as he watches Allison jog past the window, smile spread across her face and her dress blowing in the slight breeze. But then again this was Scott and Allison they were talking about.

“Will that ever happen for us, do you think?” Lydia asks and Stiles blushes. As soon as he realises what she's said she's scrambling for words. “Um, I don't mean us like us, I mean like...”

“What us be so bad?” he finds himself asking before he can over think things.

She looks down at her magazine then up at him. “I guess not.”

“Just imagine it, Isaac will be living with one of us, either you and me or Scott and Ally – Derek'll be around somewhere too – and we'll all live on the same street somewhere on the outskirts of town in the suburbs like proper adults, near the preserve but not too far away from my dad because he might need me or something. It'll be great, you and me in the future, you see, we'll be the power couple, with two kids, who have a perfect house next to our friends, and we'll have a little dog – but she'll be more yours than mine. And, naturally, you'll have one the Field's Medal, and it'll sit on our wall in it's pride of place.”

She chuckles and Stiles wonders if that's all this is to her; a joke.

As Stiles rambles on about what their hypothetical life together would be like, neither of them notice Derek leaving or the sky slowly turning purple, and, at some point in their conversation, Stiles had migrated to the sofa and the pair had gotten closer and closer, until they found themselves in their current position, Stiles' arm slung around Lydia's shoulder and their hand almost entwined. They end up talking for too long, forgetting that they'd promised to order a pizza to Lydia's apartment, and Danny has to ask them to leave the shop because he wants to lock up.

They walk home together, Stiles giving Lydia his jacket because he'd seen her shivering and she was too polite to ask for it. He'd been happy to lend it to her, the slight chill in the air not bothering him that much, and if he was telling the truth then he'd say that she looked good wearing his clothes, but she was Lydia Martin – she looked good whatever she wore. It was times like this that made it easy for Stiles to pretend that they were together and it hurt.

*

Sure enough, the next time they're all together in the girls flat, Allison and Scott end up telling everyone that they're 'on again' and he's pleased for them, he is. It's just why can't he have something like that? Heck, he's paid his dues, he's been on his share of bad dates, surely Stiles has earned a little slice of whatever it is that Scott has will Allison. And if he hoped it would be with Lydia then so be it.

His life would be at least thirty per cent easier if Lydia confessed that she had some sort of hidden love for him, if she just turned to him one day over lunch and blurted that she'd always had feelings for him and wanted to give things a go. But alas, lady luck was not with Stiles and he had a sneaking suspicion that he must have really pissed her off as a child because things never seemed to go his way.

Maybe he'd have to resort to being a monk or something, commit himself to a life of celibacy, or maybe he could just stop being such a drama queen and send Lydia a bunch of flowers and a poem like Isaac had suggested. Failing that, he could just march across the hall in his pyjamas and profess his love over the breakfast table whilst the girls are eating their toast – he's sure stranger stuff has happened (like that time Derek's uncle got so wasted he bit Scott at their NewYears Party – but they didn't talk about that).

So he considers alternate routes to Lydia's heart, thinking about what she loves more than anything else in the world; Mathematics, theoretical physics and her little dog, Prada. There wasn't much Stiles could do regarding the first two but he knew how much she'd adored Prada, when she was alive, so he managed to think up a plan which would show her how much her cared about her. He bet's that Jackson wouldn't have done anything like this for her, he'd have just sat smugly in the corner admiring his moustache and smoking his expensive cigars with his stupid cheekbones.

Lydia turns to him then, looking up from the television guide. “What was that?”

Bugger it all. “Oh, I er didn’t say anything. Doesn't matter.”

“Are you sure? Because you were mumbling about moustaches and cheekbones.” she queries.

He glances over as Isaac nearly spits out his drink, eyes widening with realisation. Isaac meets Scott's eyes and the pair begin to laugh. “My God!”

Lydia looks between the boys. “What? Why do I feel so out of the loop?” After getting no response she glances over at Allison who shrugs.

Scott laughs. “Now we know why you’ve been trying to grow a moustache for the past few weeks!”

“You couldn't make this stuff up, it's classic!” Isaac adds.

For once, Stiles is grateful for Lydia's obliviousness. “Shut it guys. I have so not being trying to grow a moustache.”

“Whatever you say, mate.”

If he wasn't the Sheriff then he'd contemplate killing them all.

*

That's why Stiles is sat in Lydia’s apartment, puppy in his lap. He'd thought it all through. He'd remembered Scott saying something about someone bringing in some abandoned puppies to the vets, so Stiles had headed down there to pick one up for her. He'd convinced Allison to help him find all of Prada's old things and they'd set up a little basket for the new puppy just outside Lydia's room. He'd let Scott take Lydia to some restaurant or something with Allison, so he could smuggle in his gift without ruining the surprise for her.

He'd even gone out and got a little collar for the puppy, who he'd dubbed Jimmy Choo, and filled one of the cabinets with dog treats, so everything would be ready for Lydia when she returned. He was starting to get anxious about twenty minutes before the others were due to arrive, wondering if Lydia would flip out for just getting her a dog without asking first. She might not even want one, not after she lost Prada, but before he had time to take it all back, he heard his friends footsteps in the hallway and the jingling of keys.

Quickly gathering up the bundle of fur in his arms, Stiles waits for Lydia to walk in. Surely this would show Lydia exactly how he felt, and he was about to find out. If this all went wrong he supposes he doesn't have much to lose – apart from his dignity but, who was he kidding, there's not much of that left.

When she walks through the door, she doesn't even see him. She throws her handbag onto the table and then nearly jumps out of her skin when she sees Stiles sat on her sofa.

“Jesus, Stiles, what are you doing?”

He turns to face her with Jimmy fidgeting in his arms. Lydia coos as soon as she sees the puppy and a smile covers her whole face when he tells her that he's for her.

“You didn't answer me.”

“Oh, I was just waiting for you,” he starts as Lydia holds the paw of the puppy waving it at Stiles. “Which is...which is, well, what I've been doing for a while now, actually.”

“What d'you mean?” she asks.

  
He takes a deep breath. “It's just that I'm pretty much head over heals for you and I have been for a while. I wasn't sure how to tell you, so I got you a puppy because I know you miss Prada, and I thought that I could show you how much you mean to me by getting you something that would mean a lot to you.” She's not saying anything so he throws caution to the wind, if he's screwed then he might as well do it properly. “I just thought that you could feel the same and after what we were saying the other day about having a house in the suburbs with a little dog I thought this could be the start of somethin-”

  
She's kissing him then, Jimmy jumping down from her arms and scampering around their feet, as her hands appear on his shoulders. He's sure he must be dreaming because having Lydia kiss him is perhaps the best thing to happen to him since...since he got to take her to the formal back in high school. He can feel the warmth from her body as it's pressed up against him and he's glad that he went through with this because it turned out remarkably well, even if there is a little dog trying to work it's way between them.

  
When she pulls away she slaps him. “You are such an idiot,” she starts and his heart sinks. “Why didn't you say anything? We could have been doing this for ages! God, hasn't it always been obvious that I'm totally besotted with you?”  
“Um no. Are you sure?”

“Well how could I not be Stiles? You're wonderful, you're so considerate and caring and one of the smartest people I know. And you're funny, you're so quick with your words whether their witty or comforting you always seem to know the right thing to say. You're always there for your dad, your friends and me and you don't even know how much you mean to us all because you're so utterly Stiles that you put us all before you.”

  
“But I've got a job in a town where nothing ever happens, I share an apartment with my best friend even though I'm practically thirty and haven't had a serious relationship with anyone ever. I make stupid jokes at the expense of my friends which, I'm informed, aren't even funny and I still have the same Jeep that I've had since I was sixteen.” he stops seeing the fondness in her eyes. “And I don't have a moustache so...”

  
She takes his hand in her smaller one and begins to rubs soothing circles into his palm. “Why would I care if you didn't have a moustache?” she looks puzzled for a minute but then she seems to realise. Lydia just smiles a bit wider, then, and a bit brighter. “Stiles, have you...” she giggles, holding her stomach, “Tell me you haven't been trying to grow a moustache for me.”

  
“I can't exactly deny that particular statement.”

“Why?”

  
In for a penny, out for a pound right? “Because Jackson had one. You loved him, like a lot, and I thought that maybe if I had one then you'd think I was...”

  
“What? A douche? An ass hole?” she interrupts. “Do you even know how much I hated that stupid moustache? It was gross, God knows how many times I tried to get him to shave it off.” she laughs, it's pure and a bit like magic. “I'm glad you don't have a moustache, Stiles.”

  
“Mmm, me too. It was itchy.” he muses, playing with a strand of her strawberry blonde hair that had fallen from her braid. He tucks it behind her ear with a smile.

  
“I broke up with Jackson because he wouldn't commit and, everyday, I'm so glad that I did because he was so wrong for me. I couldn't see it then but I do now, I couldn't see you then either but now that I do I'm glad I'm not with him, or any of the other mindless guys I've been out with, because that perfect little house in the suburbs and the two kids and my Field's Medal over the fireplace sounds like something I'd be willing to try.” She smiles, kissing him softly again, this time on the cheek.

  
“What about the little dog?” Stiles asks, reaching down to scratch behind Jimmy's ear.

  
“I can't think of anything better.”

  
Stiles doesn't think that he's ever smiled this much in such a short period of time – not even when he made first line sophomore year – and he can't believe that this is his life. He’s stood in the middle of her grandma's apartment, all of their friends probably spying on them from Isaac's place, and it's summer in Beacon Hills.

Life has never been so good.  
*

  
Up until this point, Stiles Stilinski had never been entirely satisfied with the way his life has panned out. He'd been stuck in a rut and was resigned to the fact that he's probably never leaving Beacon Hills.

  
He doesn't have to worry about never having had a serious relationship because he's got one now. He's always had a lot of love to give and know he's got someone to give it to, someone with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes that's 5'3 without heels. There'd only ever been one girl that had caught his attention and now he had hers.

  
When Stiles thinks about it, it's never really been that bad, he lives with one of his best friends and her dog. They've been best friends since university, even though they'd been at the same school, and even now they were both nearly thirty they were getting closer. He knows he can be a sarcastic and cynical person and that must be hard to live with but when your room mate is a genius who thinks you're the best thing she's seen since she discovered quantum field theory, then it's easier to be a better person. Stiles know that without her he'd go out of his freaking mind but that's not something he needs to worry about.  
Because she's not going anywhere.


End file.
